The Deal
by PocketRocket911
Summary: "Please, I'll do anything." Lisbon's cheeks flamed. She hated groveling, begging. It was weak, and Teresa Lisbon was not weak. But she would ensure Jane's safety by any means necessary.
1. Chapter 1

**First off, I **_**never **_**intended to publish this. It was just a dream I had, that I wanted to write down before I forgot it. But then I was having trouble continuing it, and I didn't know how to start a story that would get here, so I thought **_**Hey, I'll just publish this lil' old thing**_**. And that's what I'm doing. So don't expect it to make sense. Actually, if you go in with rock bottom expectations, you just might enjoy it. I don't own.**

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"How about I cut you a deal." Lisbon eyed the man warily. Cutting deals with serial killers wasn't preferable at all, but she was more concerned about Jane and what she could do to help him. Anything. She would chew off her own arm before letting any more harm come his way.

"Please, just let him go."

"You poor thing. Is he really worth that much to you?" His lips curled up in a feral grin.

"Please, I'll do anything." Lisbon's cheeks flamed. She hated groveling, begging. It was weak, and Teresa Lisbon was not weak. But she would ensure Jane's safety by any means necessary.

"Oh, how touching. You have yourself a real white knight here, don't you Mr. Jane?" The man sneered and curled his fingers into Jane's curly blond hair, yanking his head up.

"Lisbon, stop." Jane looked at her with serious eyes. Not a chance in hell would he let her take any of the pain from him. She wasn't even supposed to be here. His fault. It was all his fault.

The man dropped his hand and sauntered back to Lisbon's chair.

"Tell you what." Lisbon raised her head and shot the nastiest look she could muster at her captor. He laughed heartily and bent down close to her ear, gently picked up a lock of dark brown hair. He stroked it almost reverently.

"Such lovely hair. Such a lovely woman. Poor Mr. Jane doesn't seem to appreciate your beauty, does he? A shame." He let the strands fall through his fingers and straightened up once again.

"Now about that deal. You can help Mr. Jane here. I won't touch a hair on his head anymore… _if… _you take his place."

Lisbon's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean, 'take his place?'"

"It's simple. I won't go anywhere near Mr. Jane. I will hurt you instead of him. Are you willing to do that for your partner?"

She visibly shuddered with relief. She could save him. It was simple. The best possible scenario she could have pictured. _No more hurt, Jane. _She thought. _He won't hurt you anymore._

Unfortunately, Jane overheard their little deal and sputtered in outrage.

"Absolutely not! Lisbon, don't! I forbid it! Don't touch her, you monster!" His eyes were crazed, his expression livid.

"Yes. Yes, please. Don't hurt him. Hurt me instead." She pleaded, eyes wet with tears.

"You're a heartless man, Mr. Jane. She saves your life, puts herself in harm's way to protect you, and you make her cry."

"Lisbon, stop please. Lisbon! Don't do this! I'm fine, I can take it!"

"Oh no, it's too late to be the hero now, Mr. Jane." The man snapped at Jane before returning his attention to the agent in front of him.

"I'm going to hand you this knife, and I'm going to undo one of your arm straps. If you attempt to cut yourself free or harm me in any way, I will not hesitate to shoot Mr. Jane here." To emphasize his point, the man cocked Lisbon's glock and aimed it at Jane's head.

"Lisbon, don't do this! You can't- I won't- I won't let you! Stop!" Jane wouldn't stop yelling, tears streaming down his face.

Lisbon simply ignored him. She waited as the man slowly unstrapped her right hand, careful to keep the gun aimed steadily. Her eyes were trained on her consultant's, though, trying to communicate without words. _It's okay. I want to do this. I want to take your pain away. _

She barely registered the firm pressure of the knife handle in her palm. The man grabbed a fistful of her hair, much like he had Jane's, and twisted her head to face him.

"Cut your arm. Until I say stop. Too shallow, and I blow his knees out. For every cut you make, you save him one. Start."

Lisbon squeezed her hand around the cool wooden handle and raised her arm. She watched as the man flinched and tightened the grip on his gun. Finally she brought the blade down against the bare skin of her inner left arm.

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…**yep. That's it. If anyone wants to take this little snippet and build it a story, you're more than welcome. I don't even need credit. Just PM me when you finish so I can read it! He needs a home, and I'm not getting anywhere with him! Thanks for reading, and reviews are always nice ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, I'm a dirty hypocrite. I _know _I said that I wasn't going to continue this, but I couldn't leave it hanging. Sorry to anyone who wanted it left alone or who wanted to finish it themselves. I'm not even sure how this turned out. This is sort of a read at your own risk thing. ALSO! I've been considering changing this to M, because it's _kind of _graphic. I'd really appreciate some input on that from you lovely people. Alright, I'll leave you alone now. I don't own.**

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Lisbon could no longer hear Jane's frantic calls over the roar of her blood rushing through her veins. The knife was beginning to feel like a dead weight in her hand. It didn't matter, though. Because as long as she kept cutting, she was keeping Jane safe. Another cut; what was it? Number twelve? Thirteen? The first ones had stopped bleeding, but her whole arm was swollen and covered in blood. A sharp flash of pain made her involuntarily drop the knife onto the floor with a loud clatter.

"Lisbon! Don't you dare pick that up! You have to stop, _please!_" Jane wouldn't stop begging, near hysterical.

"Mr. Jane, if I have to tell you one more time to be quiet, I will make sure Agent Lisbon pays for it dearly. Do you understand?" The man, who had been watching from the corner of the room with a sick satisfaction and a gun pointed at Jane, stepped forward and plucked the knife off of the concrete floor. He straightened with a grunt and set the blade on Lisbon's lap.

"There you go. You don't look too good, my dear." He pushed against the bottom of Lisbon's chin, forcing her head up. Her eyes were blank, cheeks wet from tears of pain, and her skin was ghostly pale.

"Probably because you're making her _torture _herself to death!" Jane screamed, thrashing against his restraints.

The man flinched in anger before snatching the knife out of Lisbon's lap and drawing the blade across her right cheek with a flick of his wrist. Lisbon gasped in pain and mustered up enough strength to bring her unbound hand up to her face.

"Oh, god, Lisbon. I'm sorry." Jane's eyes widened even more. Her beautiful face, marred by his doing. He felt worse than dirt.

"I hope in the future you'll try harder to obey my orders, like lovely Agent Lisbon has been doing so well."

Lisbon, who had weakly dropped her head, raised it again at the sound of her name. Jane choked out a sob when he saw her face; the whole right side covered in dark red blood.

"Your arm seems a little worse for wear. How about we switch things up a little, hmm?" The man tossed the blood-soaked knife across the floor and picked up a pitcher of water from a small table behind him.

"It must hurt, yes? Not the arm, no, though I can imagine it's not pleasant." He slowly circled Lisbon's chair. Her head fell forward again, and Jane could see her struggling to take a breath. He wanted so badly to shout out, demand her to stop, scream until his lungs collapsed, but he wouldn't dare for fear of her suffering the consequences. Instead he watched silently, eyes flitting between his best friend and the man who was currently making her life a living hell.

"I can't imagine how it must tear you up inside. Loving a man who's in love with a ghost? It must be awful." He watched with twisted glee as Lisbon forced herself to look up, before she smirked slightly and bent her head, spitting blood onto his Timberlands. The man's face morphed into one of outrage, and the affectionate air he held towards her vanished. His hand slapped against her injured cheek, and she choked out a groan of pain.

"You bitch. No one can blame him for not loving you. Why would he want ugly, boring old agent Lisbon when he has a beautiful wife? You're wasting your time pining for a man who will _never _return your feelings. You're just a toy, a puppet for him. You're _nothing._"

With his final words the man lifted the pitcher he'd been holding and poured around a third of the water over Lisbon's injured arm. Her eyes widened milliseconds before a strangled scream left her mouth. Her left arm writhed against the leather straps and her right clawed at the bloody mess, trying to stop the water from entering her numerous cuts.

For a few moments Jane couldn't comprehend the ocean-y smell, or why she was in so much pain, before he finally forced his foggy brain to put it together and realized that the water had held gratuitous amounts of salt.

"Does it hurt?" The man screamed, before dunking his hand into the pitcher and slapping Lisbon across the face again. It was the straw that broke the agent's back, and Lisbon slumped forward, shaking from the overwhelming pain. She was still somewhat satisfied, though. She couldn't even imagine how she would feel if this had happened to Jane. She was still saving him, protecting him. As weak as she was, she had to be strong.

"I'm done for now." The man roughly strapped Lisbon's right arm back down, before curling his hand around the gold chain on her neck and yanking. He began walking back towards the steel door in the corner, pausing at Jane's chair.

The consultant didn't acknowledge the man's presence, but instead kept his eyes on Lisbon, consumed by bone-deep guilt. He only broke his stare when the man dropped Lisbon's cross onto Jane's lap.

"Look at what you've done." The man went to exit the room, but stopped in the doorway.

"Not a word out of you." He pointed his finger in Jane's direction before swinging the door shut with a resounding slam.

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**...yeah. So, I'm _maybe _considering continuing this, but if it's just a hot mess of God-knows-what, I won't bother. Please let me know either way. Reviews are like Jane smiles :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the wait! I've been super busy with school and all sorts of nonsense. I really hope this chapter lives up to expectations. It wrote it during my study hall today, so it's the product of about 50 minutes of writing time. Either way, I hope it doesn't disappoint! I don't own. **

**PS: The man only told _Jane_ that he couldn't talk, not Lisbon. Sorry if that was confusing at all.**

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Lisbon's harsh breathing pounded in his head. She needed to look up. She needed to stop shaking. She needed to be okay. Jane had to bite his lip to keep from calling out to her, but the gash in her cheek, still bleeding, served as a reminder for what the punishment for talking would be.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Jane, but was probably only a few minutes, she weakly raised her head and offered him a watery smile.

His heart splintered in two, and he let out a shaking sob. What had he done? He could've saved her from this, he should have been the one all cut up. Instead there he sat, hardly a scratch on him, while she was barely conscious, yet still she was trying to comfort him. She was so good, so pure and sweet that it made his insides hurt.

Lisbon's eyes watered, but she managed to hold herself together. No point in breaking down, it would only worry him more. Even if the pain was almost unbearable. Even if she felt like passing out cold, just to escape the burning. No, she had to be strong. For Jane.

"Hey." She rasped, her voice like sandpaper. Her consultant looked up, eyes flitting back and forth between hers, wide with panic.

"Hey, I'm fine. I'm okay. See? Just a few bumps and bruises." Jane let out a cold laugh that fell into another sob. His eyes were crazy; she could tell that he wasn't himself. Patrick Jane out of control was a Patrick Jane that was very unpredictable. She was worried for his well-being. What if he hurt himself? Bad things happened when he was lost in his own head.

Lisbon smiled weakly and tried to bring him back again. Panicking was not a good idea. She needed his head in the game, they both did. How else were they going to escape?

"Jane?" She snapped her right fingers, the sharp noise shaking him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to face her again, guilt radiating form him in stifling waves.

Lisbon knew that he was mad at her, that he wanted to protect her. Well too bad, Patrick Jane. It was her job to protect him. She was the cop, and frankly, she would take the torture again any day before seeing him in pain.

"Lisbon." He whispered before he could stop himself. Her arm was still twitching, her eyes cloaked in pain. His brain was muddled, he couldn't concentrate.

"Shh. I need you to do me a favor, okay Jane? Can you do that for me?" She asked, speaking to him like he was a child. Jane briefly noted the irony; usually he was the one who patronized her. Now, though, she seemed to be the only one with a clear head. He nodded slowly and awaited further instruction.

"I need you to look around, okay? Look around the room and see if you can find anything that might get us out." Lisbon grimaced as a particularly strong wave of pain rolled through her arm. Push it aside, she told herself. Concentrate. Jane. Escape.

Jane's eyes scanned the room, but his brain just wouldn't pick up on the little things like it normally did.

"Take a deep breath. You can do this, Jane. Just look." Lisbon's voice weaved its way into his mind, wrapping around his brain like a soft caress until the fog cleared. He suddenly snapped back into action. His eyes shifted around the room, noting the small table with the pitcher, the knife Lisbon had used now lying on the floor, and the strange little holes in the walls. He turned back to his partner, relieved to see that she was sitting up straighter than before and had also been looking around the room.

He tapped his foot against the floor, getting her attention, before awkwardly twisting his arm under the bindings in an attempt to point to the wall.

Luckily for him, Lisbon quickly picked up on what he was doing and observed the wall herself.

"The holes? Do you think he's watching us through them?" She asked, and Jane shook his head. The whole no-talking thing was not working for him at all.

"Why else would he put holes in? Was he…. Do you think he was hanging something?" She made the connection, and he nodded.

"Well then, why-" Lisbon's question was cut short when the door crashed open and a blinding light shone.

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**So there you have it. Chapter 3. Like it? Leave a review! Hate it? Leave a review! Flames will be used to toast marshmallows! :)**


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